


Shattered hearts & broken kneecaps

by Crocodiles Fanclub (cassiel_aurion)



Series: Summer Stories [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Other, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:28:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24944641
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassiel_aurion/pseuds/Crocodiles%20Fanclub
Summary: Raih’a is finally moving out of his parent’s house and his father is helping him out.
Relationships: n/a
Series: Summer Stories [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1805320





	Shattered hearts & broken kneecaps

“-Is this the last box?”

It was rare for Qih’wo Lihzeh to exercise. It was even rarer for Qih’wo Lihzeh to sweat. However, in this hot Thanalan summer, lugging crates back and forth, there was nothing he could do. Even if he had strapped a pile of ice crystals under his armpits, it would have changed nothing. He could feel it, on the nape of his neck, a waterfall of perspiration, growing and growing. It was gliding along his spine to end its course between his buns. 

Disgusting. 

“-Yeah.” Watching the older miqo’te put the box down, Raih’a added. “Thanks, dad.”  
“-This is not like I would not help my son move out of the house…” He wheezed, taking his handkerchief out of his back pocket “Unlike a certain someone.”  
“-Pops was here yesterday.”  
“-Was he, now?” Qih’wo dabbed his forehead in rapid movements. “I would like to imagine the only two things he did was sitting his derrière all sun long and flick boogers on the wall.”  
“-Actually, he moved all the really heavy stuff by himself. D’you knew he was so strong?”  
“-That is-…” He trailed off. “Yes. I am aware of his physical strength..”

Qih’wo folded his handkerchief, putting it away. Taking a deep breath, he had to ask himself: Why Raih’a picked that apartment on the fifth floor?

“-You guys… fought again?” Tried awkwardly the son.   
“-We did.”  
“-Pops told me he moved back at Dira’s for the moment.”  
“-Louis always complains how much he hates the Black Shroud.” He kicked an empty box out of the way. “Yet, when the moment arises to spend time with Dira, there is no faster man on Hydaelyn to leave.”

In a low growl, he added, mostly for himself.

“-I swear to the Twelve that one sun, I am going to have this succubus’ head.”  
“-What was it about?”  
“-What was?”  
“-Your fight.”

Bracing himself, Qih’wo pushed a box tagged as “KITCHEN” through the corridor.

“-You know your father.” 

Helping Qih’wo, Raih’a pulled the container from the other side, making it safely reach its destination.

“-...a six-tonzes Voidsent?”  
“-I meant how unreliable he is.” 

In kindergarten. That theatre play. The one about Louisouix Leveiller and the Calamity. Miss Jhor, Raih’a had no idea why he could still recall his teacher’s name, had picked the roles for everyone. He has been selected to play an Atomos, he had no dialogue at all except “growwwwl!”, but he remembered, to this day, the costume he donned. It was no doubt the best out of all his playmates wore. What made it even more special is that said disguise had been hand sew by Louis. When the fateful night had come, he looked for his parents in the crowd. He saw Qih’wo but instead of Louis to his side, there was an unknown woman. Who was she? Why was she here? It took Raih’a everything to not tear up on stage: why was his other father there too?!? As soon he was back home, he ran to his bedroom, water in his eyes. Soon after, the door opened and he felt a huge muzzle poking his back: “I saw everything, my lil’ pup. Even if you didn’t see me, I saw you.” Raih’a, turning around to hug Louis’ face. “You were a pretty scary Atomos, I had fur fall off! Too bad you couldn’t kill them all on stage, that would have made it so much better.”

“-Well, he’s… He’s like that, y’know?”  
“-Do not find him excuses.”

Removing the crate’s lid, Raih’a bent over, picking up platters to store in the cupboard. 

“-What happened, exactly?”   
“-It is a long story,” grumbled the older man.  
“-Well, I got all sun.”

Feeling his heart was beating too fast, Qih’wo needed a minute. He pulled out a chair, crashed his weight on the unsuspecting piece of furniture. He winced when all of his bones creaked. No one was getting younger.

“-Three sennights ago, I asked Louis to assassinate Bubuceko Fefeceko for me.”  
“-Oh that’s… the guy that owns the girls on Miner’s Avenue?”  
“-Yes. Do you know of him?”  
“-Just a bit,” shrugged the younger miqo’te.   
“-He has been a thorn in my side for years.”  
“-I can imagine.”

Taking a deep breath, Qih’wo continued:

“-Instead of doing what I asked of him, your father idled in his room, sleeping from dusk to dawn. When I pressed him to do his job, he snapped at me, saying that, and here I quote: “calm your tits down, I’m still planning my move”. I knew it was nonsense so I forcibly dragged him out of bed. He got angry, jumped on me. We had a short fight but it did not take long for him to put his hands around my neck to strangle me.”

Raih’a’s ear twitched. Stopping what he was doing, he looked over his father.

“-Was he serious?”  
“-It was very much different than our usual bedroom fun.”  
“-Bedr-...?”

Suddenly, the horrible realization, he screwed his eyes shut. Too late. In his mind, he saw it. He had imagined it. Oh gods, oh no.

The mental image of his parents having sex. That would forever brand his brain. 

“-Why, dad, why?!?”

Qih’wo blinked, unfazed.

“-Why what?”  
“-Why are you telling me this!”  
“-Raih’a, you asked.”  
“-I don’t want details!”  
“-How am I supposed to tell you what happened without the details?”  
“-Argh! You don't get it!” (Few seconds passed.) “Grandma Qih having sex!”

Qih’wo shook his head, looking like someone that just had Titan himself slapped him across the cheek. 

“-That is something about my mother I never wanted to imagine.”  
“-Now we’re even.”

Qih’wo got up. Break time was over. Walking over to Raih’a, he helped his son unload the box.

“-Do you still want to hear the rest of the story?”  
“-Yes. Don’t say weird things anymore, though.”  
“-Very well.” Wooden bowl in hands, he continued: “I was lucky to have my Ishgardian hand pistol on me. I shot him in the knee. It took three times, the first two he seemed to enjoy it.”

Raih’a’s tail puffed up at its base but he said nothing.

“-He kept strangling me but I could feel his grip becoming weaker. I was nearly unconscious when he let go of me. He said something I could not understand well enough and left.”  
“-Just like that?”  
“-Yes.” Holding an empty wine carafe. “Where do you wish I put that?”  
“-Cupboard to your left.” He grabbed the last plates. “Then?”  
“-I have no idea. I did not see him for forty-eight bells and he was not answering his Linkpearl.”

The plates all neatly piled up in the cupboard, they move on to the glasses.

“-He eventually came back.”  
“-Yeah, I figured.”  
“-He woke me up in the middle of the sun by pressing dead, cold lips from a decapitated head on mine. From how he laughed, he must have thought it was the greatest gag of this Era.”

Raih’a tried his best to contain his laughter. It was funny. He knew Qih’wo wasn’t the man with the most developed sense of humor but still… A kiss from a bodiless head! What wasn’t there to find hilarious? 

“-S-So, yeah, um…” He couldn’t do it and he giggled a little bit. “He killed the guy? What are you upset about?”  
“-He killed someone but it was not the right man.” The father frowned. “Fefeceko is still alive. When I pointed this out to this cretin, he said to not “sweat it, it was part of the plan”. Plan or not, I have lost a lot of potential profit. The Thavnairian delegation had left Ul’dah and Miner’s Avenue was still in my rival’s hands.”  
“-Did you shout at him?”  
“-Yes.” A few seconds passed. “I also stabbed him through the cheek.”   
“-Dad!”  
“-I was very angry! His mistake ruined me!”  
“-How can you be certain it was a mistake?”

Qih’wo’s ears flattened on his skull.

“-I will not hear you take his side.”  
“-I ain’t taking his side!”  
“-You are and you always do.” He pointed to an opened chest, who could barely fit all of the weapons it was containing. “Where shall I put those?”  
“-Oh, in my room.”

Qih’wo walked to the designated room carrying a trunk, came back empty-handed. Raih’a was trying to fix a carbuncle chronometer on the wall. Trying was the word. The clock wasn’t leveled. At all.

“-Do you need help?”  
“-Nah, I’m good.”  
“-If you say so…”

Tap. Tap. Tap. A hammer clubbing a nail. His attention still on his task, the son asked:

“-How do you plan on making up with him?”  
“-I am not.”  
“-You’re telling me you’re good with how the things are?”

No answer. Qih’wo opened a new crate to unload. 

“-This is not like he needs me, anyway. I am simply a mortal and he is-... Ah. It does not matter.”   
“-Yeah, I don't know.” Tentatively, he asked. “I feel you’re ruminating...?”  
“-I am not.”  
“-You sure?”

Inside, the curtains for the kitchen’s windows. He took out the poles, connecting them as they were before the move. He glanced at Raih’a. Back to the curtains poles. Back to Raih’a again. Clearing his throat, he finally asked:

“-Yesterday when Louis was here, did he say… anything?”

Raih’a bit his lower lips to suppress a smile. Ah, his parents! Always fighting, always reconciling. A never-ending cycle of breaks-up and make-up.

“-He said a lot of things.”  
“-Please explain.” 

Qih’wo slipped on the drapery on their poles.

“-He wished you could cut him some slack.”  
“-Slack? He is wasting his life away!”  
“-Dad, he’s immortal.”  
“-That may be right but I cannot stand his laziness.”

Raih’a turned around, the carbuncle chronometer behind him, now affixed to the wall, was crooked. He put down the hammer on the counter. 

“-That makes him sad, y’know?”  
“-What does?”  
“-The fact that he’s going to bury both of us and he’ll be all alone again.” 

Outside, a Chocobo screeched, quickly followed by a lot of angry shouts. Looks like someone was on the wrong side of traffic.

“-Are you trying to appeal to my pity?”

Raih’a shrugged.

“-Not really. I want you to know the reason pops is always screwing around is because he knows our life is ticking away. We’re finite. He’s not. He wants to have fun before it’s too late, get me?”  
“-Life is not always about fun.”  
“-I ain’t saying that!”  
“-You are not however he does.”  
“-No… Yes.” He raised his hands, giving up. “L-Look, you should speak to him.”

Qih’wo’s face crumpled up, an anxious pleat forming on his forehead. There was a very soft “No, I cannot do that.” and then, silence. 

“-Raih’a, can you bring me the hammer?”  
“-Sure.”

Hammer in one hand, stepladder in the other, Qih’wo walked toward the window. In prudent, calculated swings, he clobbered nails to fix the curtains poles on the walls.

“-I… I am thinking.”  
“-About what?”  
“-Perhaps I should…” He trailed off. Finally, he ended what he started. “...talk to him.”

Raih’a nodded enthusiastically. 

“-Yeah!”  
“-I could tell him I am very sorry.”  
“-You totally should!”  
“-Do you think he is still angry that I blew his kneecap with a bullet?”  
“-What? Naaah! You know him. He’s all about forgiveness!”  
“-Forgiveness?” Qih’wo had a joyless laugh. “Are we talking about the same Voidsent?”  
“-Maybe not but… You can never know, right?  
“-...Right.”

The sun was setting on the horizon when both men had placed the last piece of clothing in the wardrobe and the last mirror hung on the wall. Having a quick bite in the (still) barren kitchen, Qih’wo stretched, whining painfully. 

“-I will be sore tomorrow.”

Food half-chewed in his mouth, Raih’a remarked:

“-You wouldn’t be if you would work up.”  
“-I do not have time for this.”  
“-You need to make time for exercise.”  
“-Mmh.” That Chocobo nugget was disgusting. He let the other half on his plate. “Would you like a housewarming party when you are all set up?”  
“-I’d love that! Oh, I know! It’s summer! We should do a barbecue on my balcony!”   
“-That is a wonderful idea.”

Raih’a finished his beer, doing his best to stop fidgeting. 

“-There’s something I always wanted to ask you.”  
“-What is it?”  
“-Can you tell me about my mom?”

A shadow passed in Qih’wo’s eyes. He forced himself to smile when he answered:

“-I was waiting for you to finally ask me about her.” He looked down for a brief moment. “Yes, I will talk to you about Raih. However this day is not today, I am afraid. I am exhausted and your mother… This can take a while. ”  
“-Cool.” Raih’a nodded, wiping some sauce off the corner of his mouth. “Were you guys really cousins, thought?”  
“-Where have you heard that?” 

Qih’wo didn’t need an answer to this question. Louis… 

“-This is true. Your mother and I came from the same grand matriarch. She was a Lihzeh from Greenharbour.”

Raih’a tensed up, his ears pointing toward the sky. He was about to say something but his father cut him off:

“-However, as I told you: we will have this talk later.”  
“-Yeah… Let’s.” The young man also gave up on his dinner, refusing to eat anything more. “Let’s also never have take-out from Shosholi’s again.”   
“-I second that.” Qih’wo stretched one last time before getting out of his chair. “I do think it is time for me to get back.”

Following his father to the door, Raih’a put his hands in his pockets. 

“-Thanks for the help!”  
“-You are very much welcome.” Qih’wo had one last look around. “I remember when I left the Shroud, all of these years ago. When I finally had my place for the first time. I was very happy.”  
“-I get you. I can finally let my dirty underwear all over the floor and you can’t complain.”

Shaking his head dismissively, Qih’wo had a half-smile.

“-You are your father’s son. Alright. I am leaving, I have an airship to catch. I simply hope I can make it to Gridania before the nightfall. Take care.”  
“-Airsh-…? You’re not going back home?”  
“-Home is not home when it is missing an absolute buffoon to share with.”

Watching Qih’wo leave the Sultana’s Breath by the windows, Raih’a rolled his eyes.

“-Bet you gonna need my help again next time you fight with him.” 

What a handful!


End file.
